19. Jealous

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I need comments, and this is serious. It's not like you guys can't, but for some reason, most of you either forget or don't want to.

I updated this chapter even though there weren't even a hundred comments on the last chapter. I am sorry, but for the next update, you need to comment and vote.

I have seen writers setting targets for half the number of comments compared to the votes, and here you guys aren't even making a total of 100 comments. Imagine, if 600 people can vote out of some 4,000 readers, can't even a hundred of them leave a comment? Or can't a thousand out of 4,000 vote?

Or should I also set some target like 1k votes or 500 comments? 

Believe it or not, this is really disheartening, at least for me, when this is the only thing I am getting in return for writing.

If I am taking out my time to write, kindly take out a minute from your schedule to vote and comment. It is free.

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Sankaar

Keeping my phone aside, I opened my laptop to check my schedule for the week. I had to complete everything on time to get back on track after all this wedding chaos.

It was still only 9 PM, which was definitely not my bedtime. I slipped into a crisp white shirt, carefully buttoning it up, and then added a sleek overcoat. One last look in the mirror confirmed I was ready for a late-night tour. Locking my room, I headed out when Shreya caught up with me.

"Are there any more meetings, sir?" she asked.

I shook my head. "You're free, Ms. Pathak."

Nodding, she walked ahead, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor, disappearing somewhere downstairs.

I made my way to the dining area of the hotel. It was an opulent space, with high ceilings and grand chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow. The walls were adorned with rich mahogany paneling and intricate moldings. Plush, burgundy carpets muffled my footsteps as I entered. 

I chose a chair in the farthest corner, away from the few other late-night diners. For some reason, I always preferred corners—they offered a sense of privacy and a vantage point to observe the room. The table was set with fine china, polished silverware, and a crystal water glass that sparkled under the dim lights. I settled in, appreciating the quiet elegance of the space, and signaled for the waiter.

As I waited for my order, I scanned the room, taking in the details. The soft murmur of conversations, the clinking of glasses, and the subtle notes of a live pianist playing in the background created a serene atmosphere. 

But soon enough, I realized this was the last place I should have chosen. The dining area was filled with couples engaged in all sorts of romantic activities that made me uncomfortable. They were holding hands, whispering sweet nothings, and even stealing kisses.

I found myself staring intently into my coffee mug, trying to avoid looking around. The rich aroma of the coffee was comforting, but it couldn't fully distract me from the surrounding spectacle. My corner refuge had turned into a spotlight on solitude amidst a sea of companionship.

Can't they make a decency rule, at least?

Fuck of!

I stood up, screeching my chair back, and paid my bill before walking out straight from that obscene place.

The city was still alive, its streets humming with traffic and clubs buzzing with activity. Neon lights cast a surreal glow over the sidewalks, and the distant sounds of laughter and music filled the air.

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